


Yuuri, Viktor, and the Great Comet of 1812

by SlytherinintheTardis



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy, Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU, F/F, Great Comet AU, Great Comet/YOI AU, M/M, Victuuri Great Comet AU, Viktuuri Great Comet AU, Yuri on Ice!!! AU, victuuri au, viktuuri au, yoi au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-13 18:27:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11765778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinintheTardis/pseuds/SlytherinintheTardis
Summary: Minami is fun, Yakov is crazy, Sara is plain, Yurio is fierce, Christophe is a slut, Victor is hot, Seung Gil is old school, Phichit is good, Yuuri is young, and JJ isn't here.A Yuri on Ice!!! / Great Comet AU in which Pierre is basically nonexistent. You're welcome.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Yooo if you don't know what Great Comet is, it's a super awesome broadway show that is unfortunately closing on September third, 2017. I came up with this AU while sobbing about its loss in the theatre world. This show deserved so much more than it got, and I highly recommend that you listen to the album on either Spotify or YouTube, or wherever. As far as the AU goes, there are obviously alterations on both the Comet side and the YOI side. Don't get mad, please just go with it. Also, I do include lines from the show itself in this fic...that was kind of part of my idea for the AU. Any lines in there that are from Comet are obviously not mine, haha! Hope you enjoy!

Minami is fun, Yakov is crazy, Sara is plain, Yurio is fierce, Chris is a slut, Viktor is hot, Seung Gil is old school, Phichit is good, Yuuri is young, and JJ isn’t here.

  
Yuuri stood at the front of a grand hall next to two majestic gold doors. His face was cold--a contrast to his usually anxious expression--and his hands were folded in front of him, not fidgeting as they usually would. The events of the past year made him numb inside.

  
_“Yuuri, darling,” his mother had said, “this is Prince JJ Leroy, your fiancé.”_

_  
Yuuri stared at the obnoxious and arrogant young man that stood before him. His dark eyes looked back at Yuuri with a smirking greed. Yuuri hated it. This wasn’t what he wanted, no, not at all._

_  
His mother approached him and placed her hands on his shoulders, looking him in the eye. She spoke in a quiet voice, careful not to let the others in the room hear._

_  
“Prince JJ and his family are going to save us,” she said. “We’re dwindling, Yuuri. Our family is failing. We need them. You've been betrothed to him since birth, as you know, but due to the war going on out there somewhere, we wanted to make sure that you met before JJ left.”_

_  
“He’s leaving?” Yuuri asked, hope seeping into his tone. Anything to prevent the inevitable marriage with this arrogant prince._

_  
“For the war,” his mother shuddered. “Hopefully he comes back. We need him.”_

_  
Yuuri set his jaw, looking over his mother’s shoulder at Prince JJ. The Prince raised an eyebrow at Yuuri, smirking at him from the distance._

_  
“How much longer will this conversation take?” The Prince questioned, huffing to himself. “I need to go.”_

_  
Yuuri thought that he could have said something along the lines of ‘then get out already’, but his anxiety got the best of him. If that was not all, his mother still had a firm grip on his shoulders, making him realize what he was getting into. His eyes widened slightly and his breath shortened. He was set for life with this man. With...with this prince. Count Yuuri Katsuki and Prince JJ Leroy. This would save them. He...he had to do it. He had to go through with it. Or it would be the end of everything he ever knew._

_  
Yuuri stepped around his mother and faced JJ, his face numb and expressionless, as it would be for a year to come._

_  
“It’s wonderful to meet you, Prince JJ,” he stated, any emotion he previously held gone._

_  
“Likewise, Count Yuuri,” the Prince replied, the same smirk on his face as before. “I hope and pray to reconnect after this war with Napoleon, but for now, I must be off.”_

_  
JJ took a step forwards and gathered Yuuri’s hand in his own, kissing the top of it gently before stepping back again. He stood there for a moment as if he was awaiting something to signal his dismissal. Yuuri only realized what it was when his mother tapped him on the shoulder. Yuuri jumped a little in surprise before bowing slightly to the Prince. JJ smiled coldly and turned on his heel, leaving the room with a trail of guards behind him._

  
Yuuri took a deep breath. It had been a year since that day. He stood at the same doors to his home, the only difference being that Prince JJ wasn’t there. Of course, JJ had visited when he could get away from the War, but unfortunately that was rather often due to his royal blood. But, recently, the Prince had been switched to a different regime--this one farther away and provided no leave of absence. This was the only thought keeping Yuuri sane for the past week.

  
He was pulled from his thoughts as his mother ran towards him and planted a kiss on his forehead, patting his hair thoughtfully.

  
“It’s time, Yuuri,” she said softly.

  
Yuuri nodded stoically, turning to the door without another look at his mother. He pushed open the doors and walked away, leaving his mother standing in the doorway, her arm outstretched. He walked towards the troika in the pathway and took a breath of fresh air.

  
_Finally_ , he thought, _I can breathe again_.

  
For the first time in a year, Yuuri smiled a genuine smile. With each step towards the troika, he smiled wider. The thought of seeing who was sitting right inside hastened his step as he lugged his small bag behind him. He could barely hear his mother’s ‘goodbyes’ over the howling winter wind.

  
The troika door opened with a snap, the wind pushing it further than it should have gone. A voice called out from inside.

  
“Yuuri!”

  
It was Phichit Chulanont--Yuuri’s cousin and closest friend. He hadn’t seen Phichit once in the past year.

  
Yuuri ran the last couple steps and practically jumped in the troika, throwing his bag on the seat and closing the door behind him. Phichit sat opposite him, grinning widely.

  
“Phichit!” Yuuri exclaimed, falling forwards and hugging his cousin tightly.

Phichit hugged back, patting Yuuri’s back.

  
“It’s been way to long,” he sighed. “I missed you, cousin.”

  
“I missed you, too,” Yuuri repeated, pulling away from Phichit as the troika started, falling into his seat on the other side.

  
“How have you been?” Phichit asked, a look of concern flashing across his face. “Your letters made it sound bad. Is he really all that?”

  
Yuuri nodded.

  
“I can’t stand him,” he muttered. “He’s rude, obnoxious, terrible and--blegh! Nothing you would want in _anyone_. I’m so happy to be getting out of there.”

  
“Damn, looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us,” Phichit replied. “Seung Gil won’t be so excited when he sees you--I mean, look at you. You’re a mess.”

  
“Wow, thanks,” Yuuri chuckled dryly. “You’re not looking too great yourself.”

  
“Yeah, but I know that.”

  
“ _Seung Gil_ is going to have _his_ work cut out for him,” Yuuri sighed, looking out the window at the snowy landscape of western Russia.

  
The Japanese Katsuki family had moved to Russia two generations before Yuuri, cutting his royal family off from the rest of Japan. It left their once great family floundering for money and status. It was what led them to Yuuri’s betrothed. It was what led Phichit to flee Thailand and live with his mother’s family, the Katsukis.

  
“Seung Gil can—”

  
Yuuri glared at Phichit, silencing his cousin before he could spout some profanity.

  
“Our godfather is no one to be messed with, you know that,” Yuuri murmured, staring Phichit in the eye.

  
“It’s not like we’re being sent there for discipline help,” Phichit countered. “We both need to run again. Your house is falling apart, and my vacation is just ending.”

  
“Yeah, don’t remind me,” Yuuri grumbled, putting his face in his hands. “There’s no way around this. We’re running from Petersburg to Moscow to escape a crumbling family, and nearing a warzone in the process.”

  
“There really is a war going on out there somewhere,” Phichit mumbled, looking out the window.

  
Yuuri didn’t respond. The troika hit a rock in the road and bounced, causing his neck to snap upwards. His breath caught in his throat and his heartbeat quickened. His worried eyes scanned his surroundings, ensuring that Phichit and the car were alright. Phichit looked back at the anxious Yuuri, unfazed by the sudden jump.

  
“You okay?” he asked, his eyes glancing over his cousin.

  
Yuuri nodded, pacing his breath.

  
“What’s Moscow like?” he inquired, getting his mind off of the dangerous troika roads.

  
Phichit shrugged.

  
“I was there last summer, so it’s much different then than the winter, as far as I've heard,” he explained. “It’s colder now, obviously. People there are all a bit stuck up--at least, those that I interacted with during my stay with Seung Gil. They’re all ‘chandeliers and caviar’ and ‘the war can’t touch us here’ and stuff like that. Not really my taste, but it is peaceful. And fancy.”

  
Yuuri nodded, trying to imagine the grand city. All he could really picture was a blur.

  
“Sounds nice,” Yuuri replied softly.

  
“We should rest,” Phichit offered. “It’s a long ride.”

Yuuri shrugged in agreement and rested his head against the troika window, closing his eyes and attempting sleep. 


	2. Moscow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome, welcome to Moscow: scruffy and cozy like an old dressing gown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooo would you look at that, chapter two came out! Anyways, I got a lot of questions in the comments of the first chapter asking me why I made JJ Andrey, and not Viktor, seeing as this is a Viktuuri story. A lot of people seem confused as to why I chose to cast Viktor as Anatole instead. Well, the answer to that lies in the musical the Great Comet itself. This fic is based off of the musical Great Comet, NOT the book that the musical is based off of (War and Peace). In the musical, Andrey is a very minor character and doesn't show up very much at all, and the main love story (while twisted as hell) is between Natasha and Anatole, not Natasha and Andrey, or Natasha and Pierre. I wanted to make Viktor a more present character in the story, and I felt to do that, I should cast him as Anatole. In the musical, there isn't much of an 'antagonist' character as there is in the book. Once again, this is an AU, so it won't be completely accurate to cannon on either side. Thank you for having me clarify. Enjoy the chapter!

Yuuri was jerked from his sleep on the fourth day of travel as the troika came to a sudden stop. His bleary vision made it difficult for him to see his surroundings, but he could tell that Phichit was slowly awakening and reaching for his bag. Yuuri rubbed his eyes and followed in suit, picking up his own bag from where it had fallen on the floor sometime during the journey. The door to his right opened and a rush of cold air flew into the car. He pulled his jacket around him tighter as he clambered out of the troika. He was met with snowy grounds and freezing wind biting at his nose. Yuuri looked up to see a pathway and grand doors to a small mansion--they had arrived.

He followed Phichit and the troika driver up the pathway and to the doors, each step pushing against the cold wind and snow. Before they could even knock once, the door swung inwards, and they were greeted with a vaguely familiar face.

“Lee Seung Gil,” Yuuri breathed, bowing his head slightly.

“Count Yuuri Katsuki,” Seung Gil responded with a sharp nod.

“Lee Seung Gil,” Phichit repeated the introduction, bowing his head similarly to Yuuri.

“Phichit Chulanont.” Seung Gil looked from cousin to cousin, raising his eyebrows in concern. “Welcome, welcome to Moscow.”

Yuuri looked up at Seung Gil to see him waving for them to come inside the house. Yuuri tapped Phichit on the shoulder with his free hand before following their godfather.

“It’s the home of faded, and fad _ing_ princes and princesses,” Seung Gil continued. “I’ll pet you a bit, and I’ll scold you a bit, but the point is to take care of you while you’re here. My godson, Yuuri, I’m sorry about the condition of your family matters.”

Yuuri nodded, the numbness returning to his expression. He didn’t want to have to talk about... _that_.

“My cousin and I are so pleased to be with you, sir,” Phichit said with a nod to his godfather.

“Ah, yes,” Seung Gil replied, “Phichit. Welcome back.”

“Thank you.”

Seung Gil then turned away from the younger men and spoke to a servant, a sharp tone in his voice.

“Bring in their things,” he commanded. “What are you dawdling for? Get the dinner ready, and some rum for their tea! Prepare their rooms, stock the kitchen, all of the above!”

Yuuri watched Seung Gil, a startled expression on his face. He looked over at Phichit, but his cousin didn’t seem shocked by their godfather’s snappiness.

Servants were darting all over the place, shoving tea in Yuuri’s face and taking his bag from his hand. Seung Gil nodded to one that approached him from his right, and turned to the cousins.

“Your rooms are prepared--just up to the left,” he explained.

Before Seung Gil could do anything, Phichit was already running towards the staircase to the left of the room, beckoning for Yuuri to follow. Timidly, Yuuri nodded to Seung Gil before running to catch up with Phichit as he darted up the stairs. As Yuuri met Phichit at the top of the staircase, his cousin had a false look of disappointment on his face.

“ _Count_ Yuuri Katsuki,” he snapped, sounding comedically like Seung Gil.

“ _Phi_ chit Chulanont,” Yuuri responded in the same tone as he moved to open the door to his room.

The pair dissolved into laughter as they entered their respective rooms, one right next to the other. Yuuri sighed as he collapsed on his bed, staring up blankly at the ceiling.

“I’m free,” he whispered. “I’ve got nothing to worry about besides my usual anxieties and—”

The door slammed open. Yuuri felt as if he jumped ten feet in the air.

“Well, now we’ll talk,” Seung Gil stated, standing in the doorway.

All Yuuri could do was nod. His peaceful silence had been interrupted.

“I congratulate you and Prince JJ,” he began, causing Yuuri to wince. “Your family booked a fine fellow--one of the finest matches in all of Russia. I am glad and relieved. He’ll be the family’s saving grace.”

Yuuri tried to contain his disdain for the Prince. He’d been hoping that coming to Moscow would mean an end to all the talking about his family’s problems.

“One problem that your mother may not have mentioned, is that Prince Yakov is not fond of his son marrying you,” Seung Gil continued, not taking his eyes off of Yuuri. “He doesn’t quite like the idea of someone...worse off...than him marrying into his family. Of course, he is crazy, old, and feeble--he’ll be on his way out soon, for sure, making way for JJ to come into power.”

Yuuri’s eyes widened at the idea of Prince JJ gaining more power than he already had. His father was the most powerful man in western Russia, next to the Emperor. Yuuri could only imagine what kind of damage JJ could do to the country if his father died before him. Part of Yuuri hoped that JJ would just die in the war. That would solve a lot of problems.  _That wouldn’t solve your family’s problems,_ his thoughts scolded him. That was right. His family came first. And no matter how much he despised Prince JJ, his family _needed_ him.

“I’ve scheduled a meeting with you and Prince JJ’s sister, Princess Sara, tomorrow morning,” Seung Gil announced, interrupting Yuuri’s thoughts.

“ _What_ ?” Yuuri nearly screeched in shock, his voice an octave higher than it should have been. He hadn’t planned on  _meeting_ anyone--especially anyone related to Prince JJ.

“Just be nice to her,” Seung Gil sighed, “and when the sister likes you, so will the father, and all will be well.”

And with that, Seung Gil left the room, slamming the door behind him. Yuuri sat on his bed, staring at the door.

“Well, _dammit_ ,” he muttered, flopping back on the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, I seriously didn't realize how short this chapter was until I was done writing it. I'm so sorry that it's so short.


	3. Yuuri and the Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Constrained...and strained...constrained...and strained.... Irksome...irksome....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh ho ho, look at this, chapter three is finally being released a day later than I wanted. Anyways, here we've got Yuuri and his fateful meeting with Princess Sara. As much as I wanted to include "Private and Intimate Life of the House", I realized that I would have to switch it for Sara's POV, and didn't feel like having another POV switch oops. Again, for the people who keep asking me questions, this is indeed an AU to both YOI and Great Comet--there are obvious and glaring differences between this and cannon!! As for Michele, I actually wasn't planning on adding him, but I received a comment about it and just decided to throw him in there. Thanks for all your feedback, and I hope you enjoy!

Yuuri awoke the next morning to Phichit pounding on his door.

“Yuuri!” his cousin yelped. “You’re going to be late!”

_ Late? _ Yuuri thought,  _ Late for what? _

“Seung Gil is getting annoyed,” Phichit continued with a sigh. “The whole point is for you to make a good impression!”

Yuuri bolted upright.

_ The princess _ . 

“I’ll be there in a minute!” he called back, jumping up from his bed and digging through his suitcase, trying to find something suitable to wear. 

_ Ah, yes, something suitable...like a  _ suit _ perhaps? _  he thought, rolling his eyes. Once he’d found what he was looking for--a classy looking suit (at least, the classiest thing his family was capable of getting their hands on these days)--he threw it on and ran out the door without looking in the mirror. As soon as he flung the door open, Phichit stared at him with a raised eyebrow.

“You look like you got stuck in a snow-less blizzard for ten hours,” he remarked, taming Yuuri’s messy hair with his hands. “You’re lucky I’m here to help you.”

Yuuri sighed.

“Wow, thanks Phichit,” he replied sarcastically.

“Come  _ on _ ,” Phichit laughed. “Seung Gil is going to  _ kill _ us if we’re another minute late.”

Yuuri let out an exasperated yawn and ran after Phichit once more. He stumbled tiredly down the steps and out the door, nearly falling into the troika once he reached it.

“Took you long enough,” Seung Gil snapped from inside. 

“Sorry,” Yuuri replied regretfully, focusing very hard on the troika’s floor. 

Seung Gil sniffed in response, choosing to look out the window instead of at the cousins. 

“Prince Yakov, has been ill for weeks,” Seung Gil explained quietly, keeping his gaze level with the window. “You will probably not have an audience with him. But, the Princess is always there--which is why you are specifically meeting with her. It is vital that this goes well.” 

A silence hung in the troika, making the ride feel longer than it was. Apparently, Moscow was bigger than Yuuri had previously thought. He looked out the window at the snow-covered buildings and streets, watching people without troikas or sleighs struggle through the deep ice and snow. As soon as the troika stopped moving, Yuuri felt his stomach drop. He gulped, quick breaths coming in and out of his mouth. His mind raced.  _ What if it goes wrong? What if Princess Sara is just as bad as JJ? What if I mess up? What if they take back the proposal and I’ve let my family down? What would happen to us if— _

“We’re here,” Seung Gil announced, his voice even as he stared at Yuuri, waiting for him to exit the troika.

Yuuri looked up, glancing at Seung Gil nervously before turning to Phichit next to him. 

“I know they’ll like you,” Phichit said encouragingly, putting on a hopeful grin. “Everyone has always liked you.”

Yuuri deadpanned, raising an eyebrow at Phichit.

“Stop it,” he muttered. 

“Good luck!” Phichit called after him as he stepped out of the troika and onto the walkway. 

As soon as Yuuri set foot on the ground, the troika drove away at an incredible speed. He squeaked in shock as its wheels kicked up snow at his ankles. He looked up, staring at the old palace in front of him. It was tall and absolutely  _ terrifying _ . He hadn’t even been inside and he already hated it. He waited for a moment, somewhat expecting the rich family to have someone waiting at the door for him, but when no one showed, he knocked. He knocked  _ quietly _ , hoping no one would answer. 

_ Click _ . 

Someone answered. 

“Oh. Oh, hello,” came a quiet voice. “Won’t you come in.”

Yuuri saw a short woman with dark brown hair behind the cracked door. She had eyes that matched her hair, yet their fire contrasted with her seemingly timid nature. 

“Hello,” Yuuri replied, his anxiety getting to him, making his voice waver.

The woman opened the door wider and welcomed Yuuri inside with a wave of her hand. 

“I am Princess Sara,” the woman introduced herself. “You must be Count Yuuri Katsuki.”

Yuuri nodded, eyes darting around the castle he’d entered. The ceilings were tall and grand, unlike Yuuri’s own home. So  _ this _ was what Yuuri was betrothed to. This...this money and this power--Yuuri could understand why his family needed this. They were  _ broke _ , not to mention dwindling in power. He knew why Seung Gil, and his family, were depending on this going well.

“I’m sorry your father’s still ailing,” he stammered out, looking at Sara and forcing a smile. 

“Thank you,” she replied stiffly, nodding slightly. “He is doing...better, I suppose.”

She shot a nervous glance over her shoulder, as if something would come out and jump at them. She looked back at Yuuri, her calm gaze returning. 

“That’s good,” he said awkwardly, swinging his arms up and folding them tightly at his chest as if he could protect himself from the  _ dreaded small talk _ .

He felt himself shrink into his own body and assume what Phichit always called his ‘offhand air’. 

Sara nodded again.  _ Silence _ . He took a moment to take in Sara’s appearance--she was guarded and plain, wearing simple toned colours. He could tell that Seung Gil was probably right about her  _ always _ being at the palace. 

Yuuri nodded back at her. The whole interaction felt...strained. It didn’t seem normal or natural for either of them. 

“Would you, uh, like to sit down?” Sara asked, finally breaking the awkward silence that rang between them. 

She led Yuuri over to the nearby couch, chairs, and fireplace, motioning for him to sit. He nodded and muttered a ‘thank you’ before sitting in the chair to the left, keeping himself closed off. Sara sat diagonal to him on the couch, looking down at her hands before beginning another session of  _ dreaded small talk _ . 

“So, you’re engaged to my brother,” she said, eyes widening with annoyance. 

“Er, yes,” Yuuri answered, trying not to cringe at the mention of it.  _ This must go well _ , he thought.

“As I am still unsure of  _ which _ brother you have the... _ honour _ of being engaged to, is it little Michele...or is it...Jean--er, JJ, as he seems to go by now?”

Yuuri was shocked. He didn’t know there were  _ two  _ royal brothers. Maybe, if Yuuri was lucky, JJ would leave him alone and he could get his betrothal switched to this Michele.

“JJ,” Yuuri stated. “I didn’t know you had another brother.”

Sara shrugged. 

“He’s my twin,” she replied. “He’s off in that awful war right now--I  _ hate _ it. I  _ hate _ being apart from him like this. It’s too violent out there. You never know what could happen.”

Yuuri nodded in agreement.

“You must be worried about JJ,” she continued, coughing out the name. 

It took him a moment to force out a nod. Of course he was  _ worried _ , he was  _ always _ worried, just not really about  _ JJ _ , for all that was worth. He thought it better for him to not mention that. 

Another short spread of silence hung in the air. This time, Yuuri broke it.

“Are  _ you _ worried about him?” he asked, wondering if maybe the royal family had agreed to the engagement because they hated Prince JJ so much. 

She shrugged again.

“Not as much as I should be,” she stated slowly and quietly, as if she was ashamed of it. 

Yuuri nodded again. 

“He...er...doesn’t seem like the kind of person to...er...worry about much?” he stammered, ending the sentence with more of a questioning tone than he’d wanted.

Sara shook her head, looking down at her hands again. 

“He’s really kind of an ass at times,” she blurted out like it was something she’d never admitted to anyone before. “I mean, he’s my brother, and I care about him...but he’s kind of an ass. I don’t want you to think that he’s a bad person, because he’s not!”   


Yuuri was taken aback for the second time that morning

“Well, yes….” he managed. “He is a bit of an ass.”

“I mean, he always had those lovers when he was younger, and now he’s engaged to  _ you _ , and I’m still  _ sitting here _ , because nothing ever happens to me. And time moves on and my fate slips past me and-and--I mean, I have no  _ friends _ , I’m never in _ vited _ anywhere, or  _ anything _ because-because who would take care of my damn  _ father _ —”

A scream sounded from behind Yuuri, causing him to jump in surprise. Out of nowhere, a crumpled figure stumbled into the room, causing Sara to leap from her seat and run towards it. Yuuri could only guess that this was Prince Yakov. He looked over to see Sara helping the short, old man up. 

“Oh,” the Prince grumbled. “So this is  _ Katsuki _ . Not much of a fit for  _ my _ Jean-Jacques.”

Sara visibly winced, mouthing some sort of apology to Yuuri as he stood and backed up around the chair. 

“S-s-sir, I—” Yuuri tried. 

Prince Yakov looked at Yuuri once, head to toe, and left, muttering to himself. He wrenched himself free of Sara’s grip on his arm and marched slowly back to where Yuuri assumed his room was. 

As he left, Yuuri and Sara stared at each other, another silence filling the room. 

“I...I must take my leave?” Yuuri said questionably, slowly heading for the door.

“Oh, please wait, just a moment,” Sara called after him, stopping him in his tracks. “I want you to know how happy I am my brother has found...happiness.”

“Is that the truth?” Yuuri asked, harsher than he'd intended. “Because I’m not so sure about your brother finding happiness with me.”

Sara looked taken aback, staring at Yuuri in shock--he could see a bit of hurt as well, and instantly regretted what he’d said. 

“G-goodbye,” he stammered, running for the door to avoid any further embarrassment. 

As soon as the door closed behind him, he felt the sharp wind bite the bare parts of his face before he covered them with the scarf and hat from his pockets. 

“What have I said? What have I done?” he cried to himself, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking up to the road where the troika would supposedly be.

Yuuri checked the watch on his left wrist--there was still another  _ half an hour _ before Seung Gil would show up again in the troika. He groaned to himself, sitting on a lightly snow-dusted rock on the side of the road and putting his head in his glove covered hands. Any anxiety-ridden tears that had fallen on his way out of the palace were beginning to freeze over. He pulled his coat tighter around him as the wind nipped at his nose. 

_ No one will ever really find happiness with me _ , Yuuri thought to himself, chuckling bitterly.  _ I’m a mess. No one else besides Phichit ever really enjoyed my company. He was wrong earlier. About everyone always liking me--that’s not true. Seung Gil probably thinks I’m a delinquent. If he didn’t before, he will now. _

Yuuri looked up at the empty road, fear filling his mind. He’d  _ let them down _ . He’d  _ messed up _ . There was no way-- _ no _ way that Prince Yakov would leave anything to Yuuri's family, or even let them go through with this engagement. Which meant that there was no way that his family would be able to get the money they needed, and there was no way for them to rise back out of the shadows. 

Yuuri sat there, on that blasted rock, thinking and overthinking and thinking and—

“ _ Yuuri _ ,” Seung Gil’s voice filled his ears. “What are you doing  _ out here _ ?”

Yuuri looked up and winced. 

“The meeting...ended early?” he murmured, hoping that it would work. It didn’t. 

“Get in the troika,” Seung Gil sighed, shaking his head. “Explain what the hell happened so I can fix this mess.”

Yuuri looked down at his boots trudging through the snow as he followed Seung Gil into the troika. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoooooo guess what's next...? THE OPERA!! (I didn't see the need for a whole chapter on "No One Else", so it's kinda blended into the end of this past chapter. But anyways, THE OPERA IS NEXT! In which we will finally meet the long-awaited Viktor, Yuri, and Chris. Hopefully I will be able to upload it by Sunday, because I will be leaving for a week long vacation on Monday morning. Anyways, thank you so much for reading


	4. The Opera // Yuuri and Viktor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The opera! The opera! Stop mooning and moaning, we'll miss the curtain!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! I whipped up this chapter for you guys and I actually had I really fun time writing this bit. Thank you all for the feedback and comments you've been writing! I really hope you've all been enjoying this fic. Enjoy the chapter! Please read that notes at the end of the chapter for some info!

Seung Gil didn’t talk to Yuuri for thirty-six hours after the incident with Princess Sara. Yuuri was  _ suffering _ . He had let down his family, of course he was suffering. Phichit was the only one in the entire house that was talking to him. The more Yuuri explained what had happened, the worse he felt about it. Why the hell did he just run off like that? Why didn’t he keep talking like he was supposed to? Why did this goddamn  _ anxiety _ have to rule his decisions back there? 

His thoughts swarmed his mind as he sat in his room for hours upon hours after the meeting. He’d  _ let down his family _ . It was something Yuuri never dreamed he would ever do. At least he was free of marrying JJ, because after  _ that _ encounter, it seemed that Prince Yakov and his daughter would never want him marrying their son or brother.  _ But _ , that would mean that his family would cease to exist. They’d be living on the streets of Petersburg within weeks, and while  _ maybe _ he would be safe in Moscow with Phichit, it didn’t seem like he would be able to because now  _ Seung Gil _ was  _ also _ mad at him. 

Yuuri sighed as he finally left his room for dinner the day after the Incident, as he and Phichit had decided to call it. He walked down the stairs to the dining room where he sat on Phichit’s right, as far away from Seung Gil as possible. He didn’t want to give his poor godfather any other reason to be disappointed in him. 

The meal was dreadfully silent. Yuuri was only glad that there was never a session of  _ dreaded small talk _ \--he didn’t think he could handle any more of that. It wasn’t until the silence was broken that Yuuri stopped poking at his food with a fork.

“Hey, Seung Gil, when are we going to the Russian Opera?” Phichit asked, looking across the table. 

Seung Gil raised an eyebrow.

“Tonight, actually,” he announced before continuing to eat his food.

Phichit’s jaw dropped. Yuuri looked up at his godfather.

“ _ Tonight _ ?” he asked, before wincing at his own voice and looking back at his plate.

“Yes,  _ tonight _ ,” Seung Gil confirmed, looking directly at Yuuri. “The three of us will be going. It is supposed to be good this time of year. Besides, we all need something to get our minds away from….”

Yuuri made a face and continued to look downwards.  _ The Incident _ , he thought bitterly. 

Seung Gil looked at the clock on the wall behind him. 

“Speaking of,” he muttered, “you better eat quickly or we’ll miss the curtain.”

Phichit practically  _ leapt _ from his seat and grabbed Yuuri’s arm, dragging him away from the dinner table.

“Come  _ on _ , Yuuri!” he exclaimed, pulling him back up the stairs and throwing him into his room. “You need to look  _ good _ for the opera. It’s the  _ opera _ , for God’s sake!”

Yuuri shrugged.

“What are  _ you _ wearing, then?” he asked Phichit, raising an eyebrow.

Phichit held up a finger and ran out of Yuuri’s room before running back in a few minutes later with a different outfit on. 

“This!” he laughed, spinning around in his red and gold uniform. 

“It looks...flashy?” Yuuri questioned.

Phichit made a face.

“Oh, shut up,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I look great. People wear the most brilliant uniforms to the opera.”

Yuuri was skeptical. Not to mention  _ terrified _ of what Phichit would make him wear. Phichit turned to Yuuri’s suitcase (Yuuri hadn’t bothered to unpack--he’d been too busy moping about the Incident) and picked through it, looking for formal wear of any kind. Yuuri didn’t _have_ much formal wear besides a single glittering, dark blue uniform with patterns on the back. It was precisely what Phichit decided on. Yuuri caught the garment as Phichit threw it at his face. 

“Put it on and meet me and Seung Gil downstairs,” he told him, grinning. “You’re going to  _ love _ the opera!”

Yuuri nodded, rather overwhelmed, as Phichit ran out of the room, closing the door behind him. He changed clothes, putting on the uniform that Phichit had chosen. He figured that if he didn’t do as Phichit wanted, he would have yet  _ another  _ person disappointed in him. When he’d finished, he looked in the mirror. He looked less  _ flashy _ than he’d originally expected. Before charging out the door after Phichit, Yuuri allowed himself to smile for the first time in the past two days.  

 

Yuuri sat in the troika next to Phichit and across from Seung Gil. He kept his gaze down at his hands for most of the ride. The only noise was Phichit raving about what he thought the opera would be like and how much Yuuri would  _ love _ it. Even with Phichit’s brewing excitement, Yuuri still couldn’t get his mind off of his most recent failure. 

“...And, and, and  _ then _ , the curtain will rise, and—” Phichit’s exclamation was cut off by the troika rolling to a stop. “ _ We’re here _ !” 

Phichit jumped over Yuuri to push open the troika door and jump outside. Yuuri chuckled and followed in a much calmer manner. The theater was huge and grand, like a palace, only, no one lived there. There were mobs of people walking inside, and troikas all parked up along the road. As Seung Gil led Yuuri and Phichit into the opera house, an usher took their coats and showed them to their seats in the box. 

Phichit certainly was right about all the brilliant uniforms that people wore. Yuuri was amazed by the pearls and silks, and sparkling clothing glittering before his eyes. He could feel the hundreds of eyes peering down on him from the other seats as he walked in. It was an odd feeling, to be looked at. He hadn’t been to Moscow since he was a very young child--it was strange to think that some of the people in the room could have seen him as such. He also figured that since Prince JJ and his family were such an important part of Moscow, that everyone would know vaguely of his...engagement. 

“Announcing,” came the voice of the herald at the front door, “Yuri Plisetsky--he dominates Moscow’s most brilliant young men.” 

Yuuri turned to see a small, yet fit, figure standing in the doorway. He had blonde hair that reached his shoulders and wore a glittering silvery uniform that made him look much more angelic than he seemed to be. He stood in full view of the crowd, awaiting the attention that was drawing towards him. He seemed as much as ease as though he were in his own room. Yuuri wished he could be like that in front of crowds. 

“Plisetsky fought in the war last year,” Seung Gil explained to Yuuri and Phichit. “But he came home quickly due to his military credits and name. Everyone knows who he is. The women seem to go crazy for him. They all say that he killed the enemy general.”

“Is it true?” Phichit asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Seung Gil shrugged.

“Who knows. All we know is that he’s Plisetsky: the Assassin.”

The herald’s voice rang through the room once more:

“Announcing, Christophe Giacometti,” he called, “the king of society.”

Yuuri looked away from Plisetsky and noticed the newcomer. Christophe seemed to be the opposite of Plisetsky--his uniform was black and red, and had cutouts on the arms. It was like nothing Yuuri had ever seen before. Phichit  _ whistled _ . 

“Now  _ that’s _ a uniform,” he laughed.

Seung Gil looked angered--well, more angered than usual.

Christophe looked over at Plisetsky and they nodded, walking over to their own seats closer to the stage. Once they had their seats all sorted out, Yuuri saw Christophe disappear into the crowd. 

“Oh, so charming,” came a voice from behind Yuuri. 

He spinned around to see Christophe Giacometti standing behind him and Phichit. 

“What a charming young group, yes?” Giacometti laughed, looking between Yuuri and Phichit.

Yuuri felt his face heating up with embarrassment. 

“Christophe Giacometti,” Seung Gil snapped, narrowing his eyes at the taller man. 

“Ah, Lee Seung Gil!” Giacometti responded with a smile. “How wonderful it is to see you. It’s been so long!”

“Not long enough,” Seung Gil muttered, shaking his head. 

Phichit let out a quiet laugh.

“You must be Yuuri Katsuki, am I correct?” Christophe asked, looking directly at Yuuri. 

Yuuri nodded, words not really forming in his mouth.

“Uh, uh huh,” he replied, too worried that he would say the wrong thing to this ‘king of society’. 

“Is your  _ brother _ here, as well?” Seung Gil interrupted, glaring at Giacometti with ease.

Christophe waved a hand. 

“He will be. He’s Viktor Nikiforov--he doesn’t do much on time.”

Seung Gil made a non-committal noise and huffed slightly. 

“Well, I must visit you all sometime soon,” Christophe said with a smirk, “I have not spent time with Seung Gil in years. Wonderful to see you, then. Enjoy the show.”

And with that, Christophe Giacometti vanished into the crowd once more. 

“There’s a man one should stay far away from,” Seung Gil hissed, glaring daggers after Giacometti.

A bell dinged and silence filled the room. Phichit gasped.

“The  _ curtain’s rising _ !” he squeaked quietly, silencing himself afterwards. 

Everyone in the room turned their attention to the stage in anticipation. 

The opera wasn’t what Yuuri had been expecting. It was loud noises and high-pitched wailing, with dancers jumping across the stage. There was singing, there was dancing, there was a story--Yuuri couldn’t take his eyes off of it. As he watched, the show became grotesque... _and amazing_. He could hardly follow it anymore. All he saw were painted cardboards and queerly dressed actors, moving so strangely in the light. It was so false...so unnatural. Yet, Yuuri was still amused by it. Everyone else seemed oblivious--even Phichit, who had resorted to feigning delight.   


Yuuri’s gaze only moved away from the stage when a rush of cold air filled the room. He snapped his head around to see the front door whipping open. An  _ exceptionally _ handsome man walked in with a confident, yet courteous, air. Yuuri could only assume that this was Christophe’s ‘never on time’ brother, Viktor Nikiforov. He seemed to move with a swagger--which, Yuuri would have thought  _ ridiculous _ , had this man not been so... _ gorgeous _ . And although it was the middle of the opera, Viktor walked right down the aisle. What sent chills down Yuuri’s spine wasn’t the sudden note in the music, it was Viktor’s eyes catching his as he took his place in the front row, next to Yuri Plisetsky. 

_ Oh, damn _ , Yuuri thought as the opera continued.

The second half of the opera brought tombstones and mournful tunes, but Yuuri was not as moved as he was before. He kept looking at that  _ Viktor Nikiforov _  and his _long silver hair_ in the front row. Yet, every time he looked at him, Viktor was staring right back into his eyes. It was...different. Yuuri wasn’t used to having people  _ look at him _ . The third time they looked at each other, Viktor’s mouth was moving, and Christophe turned to follow his gaze. 

_ They’re talking about me _ , Yuuri thought, eyes widening and face reddening.  _ Oh, God, that’s not--what are they saying? Probably something bad, right? I mean, they can’t just— _

Suddenly, the crowd erupted into a series of ‘bravo’s and loud clatters of applause. People were shouting and screaming, and Yuuri was ripped from his daze as Phichit slapped his shoulder. 

“Wasn’t that amazing?” Phichit asked, grinning widely.

Yuuri nodded, unable to speak to his cousin at the moment. 

“ _ I  _ thought it was amazing,” Phichit repeated, laughing. “Seung Gil, is there a bathroom here?”

“Yes, it’s just down the hall, I must go as well,” Seung Gil replied once the applause had calmed. “Yuuri, meet us outside.”

Yuuri nodded again and still stood there, staring at the stage, as his cousin and godfather left the box. 

_ And then, a rush of cold air _ . 

A melodic voice broke Yuuri from his trance, causing him to turn around and see who had entered the box. 

“I have long wished to see you, Yuuri Katsuki,” Viktor Nikiforov greeted him, leaning against the side of the door. 

“Uh, er, uh—” Yuuri stuttered, unable to form a coherent sentence. 

“How did you like the performance?” Viktor continued. “Last week, one of the actors fell off the stage. I think they were alright, though.”

_ He’s...so much more...simple, than I’d expected _ , Yuuri thought, his mind racing.  _ Yet he’s still as bold and relaxed as he seemed _ . 

“I, uh, it was good,” Yuuri managed to say, trying to not be as awkward as he was. 

“You know, Yuuri, there is a ball at my house in three days,” Viktor said, walking over to the balcony of the box and leaning on the rail, still looking into Yuuri’s eyes. “You should attend.” 

“Oh, I—”

“Really, you should.”

Yuuri blushed. 

“I don’t know,” he mumbled.

Viktor smiled. 

“I never introduced myself,” he said, returning to full height and looking down at Yuuri’s face. “I am Viktor Nikiforov--”

“Christophe’s brother,” Yuuri interrupted. “I know who you are.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, er, uh, just because when, when, Christophe came and talked to us up here, he mentioned you!” Yuuri corrected, turning an even deeper shade of red than he was before. 

_ We are...so close to each other _ , Yuuri thought, his heartbeat speeding up, pounding in his chest. He feared that Viktor would be able to hear it from where he stood.

“Have you...been in Moscow long?” Viktor asked, chuckling slightly and taking a step back from Yuuri as if he’d sensed his discomfort.

Yuuri shook his head.

“I arrived two days ago,” he managed to say, feeling his confidence seep through just a smidge. 

He didn’t quite know what was causing it, but Yuuri felt as if any barrier of modesty that he usually felt with people wasn’t quite there. It...it ripped down his walls and made him feel  _ safe _ . There was no fear of messing up, or letting anyone down. It was just him and Viktor. In the box seats. In the theater. 

“Ah,” Viktor replied, nodding. “Do you like it?”

Yuuri shrugged.

“Not sure yet. Do you?” he said, choosing to turn the question on the silver-haired man in front of him. 

“At first, I did not like it much, but now...I enjoy it, in a way.”

Yuuri nodded in response.

“Where are you staying while you’re here?” Viktor asked, pulling the conversation back to Yuuri. 

“Oh, uh, I’m staying with my godfather, Lee Seung Gil,” he answered. 

“Ah, Lee Seung Gil,” Viktor laughed. “Chris...he...well, I guess they were friends once or something, I don’t remember. I tend to...forget things.”   


“Oh?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t forget you.”

Yuuri felt his face flush again.

“Why?” he chuckled. “I’m not really someone anyone would remember.”

“Why do you say that?” Viktor asked, a look of concern flashing across his face.

“Well, sometimes I would say  _ please forget me _ , because I always...well...mess things up,” Yuuri sighed, thinking back to the Incident and wincing. 

“Hm,” Viktor murmured, mumbling something to himself that Yuuri didn’t quite catch. He would have asked what Viktor had said, but the latter interrupted him.

“Do come to the ball in three days,” Viktor stated, “do come. Please.”

Yuuri stared back into Viktor’s icy blue eyes and thought on it. He couldn’t decide for sure--after all, he’d just met this man. But it all felt so simple. So...ordinary. He felt so much closer to Viktor than he’d felt with anyone else. Not even  _ Phichit _ , whom he’d known all his life. But  _ no one else _ was there; no one else could see them. It felt like Yuuri’s own secret interaction. 

“I’ll see,” was Yuuri’s response as he actually smiled at Viktor. 

It all felt so liberating. There was no sense of duty, or any need to impress--it was all so much more natural than any interaction he’d had with  _ anyone _ for the past year. 

Viktor smiled back. He actually, genuinely,  _ grinned _ . 

“Wonderful!” he exclaimed. “I—”

“Vitya,” interrupted a voice from just outside the box, “the troika’s waiting.” 

Viktor and Yuuri both turned away from each other for the first time that night to see Yuri Plisetsky standing in the doorway. 

“I’m coming, just a moment,” Viktor replied, trying to shoo Yuri away. 

Plisetsky didn’t seem to get the motion and just stood in the doorway. 

“I’ll  _ meet you out there _ ,” Viktor said again, giving Plisetsky a look. 

Yuuri blushed a bit.    


“It’s alright, I need to go as well, actually,” he chuckled, face bright red once more.

Viktor looked disappointed. 

“Right, yes,” he said with a nod. “I will write you.”

“Will you really?” Yuuri questioned, looking back at Viktor in suspicion. 

“Of course,” Viktor answered, “I promise.”

Plisetsky snorted from the doorway. 

“Do not get your hopes up, Katsuki,” he cackled. 

Yuuri’s heart pounded in his chest. 

“I’ll see you at the ball?” Viktor asked one last time, ignoring Plisetsky.

“I’ll let you know,” Yuuri responded with a light smile. “See you soon, Viktor Nikiforov.”

“Hopefully sooner than you think, Yuuri Katsuki,” came the response. 

Yuuri blushed furiously and darted out of the box. He ran out the door and found Phichit and Seung Gil waiting by the troika. 

“What the hell took you so long?” Seung Gil snapped, glaring at his godson. 

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri apologized quickly, making the excuse that he was in the bathroom and that there was a long line. Although he didn’t think Seung Gil bought it, his spirits were not dampened. Phichit gave him a suspicious look and punched him playfully on the shoulder.

“So, how about that  _ opera _ !” Phichit laughed as they got in the troika and were whisked off, back to reality. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, that was long. I initially planned for it to be shorter, but I got a bit carried away...oops. I had so much fun describing all the clothes--I tried to make all the uniforms sound like what some of their skating costumes were (i.e: Yuri's Agape costume), I hope that worked out. Also, since the chapter was so long, I ran out of time to add "Natasha (Yuuri) Lost" because I plan for the next chapter to be "The Duel" so, I'm sorry about that. Also, I'm going on vacation for the week, so there won't be any updates until at least Tuesday (August 29th) or Wednesday (August 30th) depending on how busy I am when I get back. I hope to update as soon as I can when I return. Thank you for all your reads, and have a nice week!


	5. The Duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gonna drink, gonna drink, gonna drink tonight, gonna drink tonight, gonna drink tonight!  
> Here's to the health of married women and their lovers!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm finally back with another chapter! This one took way longer than I'd expected, but I've finally got it out, so here it is. We've got a little switch of perspective here, seeing as this chapter goes over to good ole Nikiforov's point of view. Fair warning, I'm shit at writing drunk people, so sorry in advance. But, I hope you all enjoy the chapter! Thank you for all the feedback so far!

Viktor Nikiforov stared as the younger man awkwardly ran out of the box and skirted through the masses of people to find the door. A soft smile played on his face--a look not usually associated with him nor his personality. His eyes twinkled with amusement, fear, and admiration as a strand of long silver hair fell into view. 

_ After all this time…. _ Viktor thought as he watched the door to the theater close behind Yuuri Katsuki. 

“Hey, what’s got you looking after that  _ piggy _ ?” Yuri snapped from next to him, pulling Viktor from his thoughts.

“Oh, that’s not nice to say,” he scolded the young blond, looking down at him. 

Yuri shrugged, not looking back at Viktor.

“Ah, Plisetsky,” Viktor sighed, clapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I need a drink.”

“ _ Thank _ you,” Yuri grumbled, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. “Now, let’s  _ go _ , finally.”

Yuri practically dragged Viktor from the box and out the door to the theater, throwing him into the troika next to Christophe. 

“What  _ took _ you so long?” Chris questioned, raising an eyebrow at the pair. 

Viktor responded with a hum and shrug, not bothering to explain yet.

“He was flirting with some pig in the box seats,” Yuri piped up, glaring at Viktor. “That’s what kept us waiting all this time.”

“Some ‘pig’, hm, Vitya?” Chris laughed, elbowing his brother in the arm. “Now who might that have been?”

Viktor felt himself grin. It was a smiling grin, and felt odd on his face. It felt too...happy, too sure, to be there. 

“ _ Yuuri Katsuki _ ,” he finally murmured, looking back at Christophe. “That  _ fucking _ Yuuri Katsuki.” 

“ _ Ey _ ?” Yuri shouted, having heard his first name. 

Chris burst out laughing. He doubled over, clutching his stomach, loud guffaws erupting from his mouth. 

“Yuuri Katsuki?” he cackled. “You were flirting with  _ Yuuri Katsuki _ ! That’s  _ hilarious _ .”

“There’s... _ another _ ...Yuri?” Yuri hissed. “I’ll kill him.”

“ _ No _ , you won’t,” Viktor replied to Yuri over the sounds of Christophe’s laughter. “Stop laughing, Chris!”

Viktor shot a glare at his brother, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back in his seat. He unbuttoned his fading magenta uniform one golden chain at a time, leaving his white collared shirt visible underneath. He took a deep breath, slowly letting it out as Yuri joined Christophe’s laughter. 

 

The troika pulled up to a rectangular stone building, stopping to allow Viktor and the others out. Christophe threw a few rubles at the driver before the troika sped off into the night.

“I still can’t believe that you...that you flirted with….” Chris laughed, unable to let the damn conversation go. 

“Shut up,” Viktor snapped with a scowl. 

At least Yuri had more or less calmed down about it by the time they’d arrived at the Popovich Club. It was the nearest to the theater, and Chris had been complaining non-stop about how far their favorite club was, so they’d ended up at the damn Popovich instead. Viktor wasn’t too annoyed by it, but Yuri sure seemed to be. He’d moved on from laughing about Viktor’s...whatever that seemed to be. 

“You’ve spoken to that guy, what, once?” Yuri chimed in, picking up the conversation again. “Before we left the theater you said that you were  _ in love _ . That’s not like you at all.”

Yuri’s statement only caused Christophe to laugh harder as the trio approached the door to the club. Viktor pushed it open with an exasperated sigh, and met the loud music and smell of alcohol with relief. He was immediately pushed to the side as Christophe controlled his laughter and darted towards the bar, Yuri immediately chasing after him. Viktor shook his head with a laugh and followed them, ordering a vodka when he reached the bar. It had been a long evening. 

Viktor looked around the club at the mass of people inside. Everyone was either grinding up on someone else to the beat of a drum, or busy sticking each their tongues in another person’s mouth. It was much more  _ Christophe _ ’s crowd than it was  _ Viktor _ ’s. Although, he wasn’t about to turn down the drink he’d just bought. He took a long sip, feeling the pleasant warmth reach his body as the alcohol hit. 

“Keep drinking, Old Man!” Yuri yelled at someone to Viktor’s right. 

Viktor wasn’t surprised when he saw that the person Yuri had yelled at was  _ far _ from being an ‘Old Man’. He didn’t seem so much older than Viktor himself, really. Viktor chuckled, looking down at the glass in his hand before taking another sip.  _ Classic Yuri, _ he thought,  _ always yelling at people and getting himself in trouble _ . 

“So,  _ Vitya _ ,” Chris broke Viktor from his thoughts by sitting next to him and throwing an arm over his shoulder. “Tell me more about what you see in that Katsuki.”

Viktor shot his brother a glare of annoyance and took another long gulp of his drink. He felt the buzz reach his head and took another sip. He couldn’t be  _ that _ sober to talk about fucking  _ love _ . Or something of that kind. 

“Yuuri  _ Katsuki _ ,” he exclaimed after a long moment of drinking and prompting from Chris. “That  _ man _ , I tell you. His eyes, his neck, his  _ feet _ \--I’ll  _ bet _ he has  _ gorgeous _ feet,  _ dammit _ , Chris.”

“You say that with the air of a connoisseur,” Chris laughed in response, taking a sip of his own drink.

“I may have fallen in love,” Viktor replied, emotion spilling out into his voice. He took another drink. “I don’t get it.”

“Better not, Monsieur,” Yuri announced, stumbling over to the siblings and sitting on Viktor’s other side. “He may be first rate, but he’s  _ nothing _ but  _ trouble _ .”

“Better wait ‘till he’s married, right?” Chris joked, letting out another series of loud laughs. 

Yuri joined in again.

“Let’s not forget that  _ you’re _ married, Vitya,” Yuri giggled, stumbling drunkenly over his words. 

Viktor waved his drink in the air and took another sip. 

“It doesn’t matter, I don’t give a damn!” he responded, standing up from his seat and turning to face his friends. “You know what they say: just as a duck is made to swim in water, God has made me as I am, right?”

“Something like that,” Chris added, coughing on a laugh.

“Well, that Polish landowner and his daughter--your  _ wife _ \--think your marriage is valid,” Yuri pointed out, unbuttoning his overcoat. 

Viktor laughed, waving his glass around again. 

“His daughter?” he chuckled. “Mila Babicheva loves  _ women _ , everyone knows  _ that _ shit!”

“Oh, da, just like  _ everyone _ knows how  _ you _ love  _ men _ ,  _ obviously _ ,” Yuri replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice along with the alcohol. “And just how  _ Christophe fucking Giacometti _ has sex with literally  _ everyone _ —”

“Oh, well  _ everyone _ knows  _ that _ !” Chris interrupted, slamming his glass on the bar for emphasis. 

“Well as long as there’s money and vodka, you’ll keep a feather in  _ your _ hat,” Viktor added, jabbing a finger at his brother.

Yuri and Chris both let out another loud laugh in response. 

“Stop making this about  _ me _ ,” Chris whined. “We were talking about how Vitya is  _ madly  _ in  _ love _ with the  _ engaged _ Katsuki!”

“Oh, shut up,” Viktor sighed, falling back into his seat as he took another long sip of vodka. “Anyways, my marriage is pointless, seeing as both me and my legal wife are both attracted to people of the _same_ gender as _we_ are.” 

“That wasn’t the conversation, Viktor!”

“I’d rather not continue it right now!”

“You two are  _ boring _ ,” Yuri interrupted, paying for another drink. “I’m off!”

“Don’t get yourself killed, little Yuratchka,” Viktor called after the young blond. 

“He will need a new name,” Chris mused, tapping his glass against his chin. 

“What?” Viktor laughed, turning back to his brother in amusement.

“Well, there seems to be  _ another _ ‘Yuri’ in your life nowadays, oui?”

Viktor chuckled, thinking about how Yuri  _ would _ need to be called something else in order to avoid confusing him and  _ Katsuki _ . Damn. Everytime Viktor even  _ thought _ about Yuuri Katsuki, his heart fluttered. It was an odd feeling. 

“What if Yuri was called  _ Yurio _ ,” Viktor answered out of the blue, doubling over in laughter. 

“Yurio!” Chris repeated with a grin and laugh, taking another drink. “Yurio ‘The Assassin’ Plisetsky!” 

Oh, how Viktor regretted allowing Chris to continue that. Even in his drunken state, he wished that Chris had never brought up Yuri’s title in the world of Moscow’s club life.

“Excuse me,” asked the person sitting near Viktor whom Yuri had previously called an ‘Old Man’. “Did you say, Yuri Plisetsky?”

Chris and Viktor glanced at each other before looking at the clearly drunk stranger. He had oddly shaped black hair, and even in the darkness of the club, Viktor could tell that there were gobs of makeup plastered on his eyelids. 

“Possibly?” was Chris’s response.

Viktor wished he had answered first. 

The man assumed an angry expression and threw his glass on the ground. He stood and marched into the crowd of people. Viktor could only assume that he was looking for fucking  _ Yurio Plisetsky _ . Dammit. 

“Odd,” Chris muttered, taking another sip of his drink. 

Viktor took a long gulp of his own. He figured he’d need it in the coming minutes. He was right.

A shout erupted from the middle of the room. The music silenced. The sea of people parted and ran away, some rushing out the door and others breaking their heated kisses to run up the stairs. A few groups of people remained, staring at two men in the center of the club. 

The strange man the siblings had just spoken to towered over Yuri’s short stature. Yuri stumbled back, a hand on his cheek. Viktor rose from his seat, about to fight someone, but Chris put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back into his chair. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Yuri screeched. 

“I’m Georgi fucking Popovich and I own this fucking club!” the man yelled back.

“So why the hell did you  _ punch me _ ?” Yuri shouted back, anger boiling in his drunk brain. “Huh? What the fuck did I ever do?”   


“You walked in here, that’s what! And you called me an ‘Old Man’-- _ and you stole a drink _ !”

“What the fuck! I haven’t stolen  _ shit _ !” Yuri yelped, throwing his glass down on the floor in response, dusting the floor in a fine layer of glass and vodka. “Do you want to  _ fight me _ , Popovich?”

“What else do you think I was doing?” Popovich replied, his voice echoing throughout the club. “I challenge you! I challenge you, Yuri Plisetsky!”

Viktor put a hand on his head.  _ Oh, this will go terribly _ , he thought, taking another sip of vodka. 

“Oh?” Yuri took a stumble back, spreading his arms. “A duel? Now,  _ this _ is what I like.”

“You’ll fucking  _ kill _ him, stupid kid!” Chris called out, leaning back anxiously in his seat and taking another drink.

“So? He’ll be killed, what is it to you?” Yuri shot back, taking off his coat and throwing it over at Chris. “Viktor, my gun!” 

Viktor stood and stumbled, gulping down another glass of vodka. 

“Oh, this is  _ horribly _ stupid,” he sighed, handing Yuri a gun from the blond’s coat that had previously been tossed aside. 

“Let’s begin,” Popovich sneered, stepping back towards one end of the club. 

“This is  _ child’s _ play,” Yuri snapped, retreating to his designated end.

The crowd began to chant: “ _ Rhaz! Dva! Tri! _ ”

Viktor watched as Yuri and Popovich walked slowly towards one another, guns raised.  _ This will only end in blood _ , he thought, grimacing. 

“Yuri, hold your fire,” he warned, nerves kicking in as his friend drew near the challenger. 

Yuri didn’t respond. 

“Yuri, not yet!” 

A shot rang out. A scream echoed throughout the club. Smoke filled the air. 

“Fuck!” Yuri screeched, clutching a bleeding arm. “Shot by a fool!” 

“Oh,  _ fuck _ ,” Chris muttered to Viktor. “Popovich won’t make it out of this alive.”   


“Take that, you—” Popovich tried to get a word in.

“Quiet,  _ Old Man _ ,” Yuri snapped, raising his gun with his good arm. “My turn.”

“Good lord,” Viktor murmured, taking yet another sip of his drink. “Yuri, for God’s sake, stand down!”   


Another shot. This time, accompanied by a thump. Someone screamed. Viktor jumped from his chair and ran over to Yuri, who still stood upright, clutching his arm. 

“It hit,” Yuri hissed. “It  _ hit _ , oh, God,  _ fuck _ ….”   


“Get...out….” came Popovich’s raspy voice from the ground behind them. 

This time, Viktor didn’t hesitate. He looked over at Chris, who grabbed Yuri’s abandoned coat (which he had wrapped around a bottle of vodka), and pushed Yuri towards the door.

“You are a  _ fool _ ,” Chris said as the they reached the door. 

Yuri glared at him. 

“Fuck off, Giacometti,” he growled.

Viktor raised his eyebrows and made a face, opening the door and shoving Yuri into the icy cold of the night. Chris followed, unwrapping the stolen bottle and throwing Yuri’s coat over the blond’s shoulders. Viktor took one last glance at the club over his shoulder before following Chris and Yuri, slamming the door behind him for a dramatic effect. 

“Well, Yuri, you certainly seem to bring out the beast in people,” Chris joked, scanning the streets for a troika.

“What can I say?” Yuri hissed. “Seems like I have a  _ gift _ .”

Chris laughed. 

Viktor folded his arms and looked out at the snow covered road. Even under his many layers, he shivered. Although, he wasn’t quite sure if it was because of the weather, or the fact that he’d been reminded of that fucking  _ Yuuri Katsuki _ . God,  _ dammit _ . 

“Chris,” Viktor began.

“ _ Vitya _ ,” Chris replied.

“Would you visit Seung Gil tomorrow?” 

“ _ Seung Gil _ , or  _ Yuuri Katsuki _ ?” was the sly response. 

Viktor and Chris looked at each other, and Viktor nodded. 

“Yuuri...Yuuri Katsuki,” he murmured, ever so quietly, as if it was a secret that no one could tell.

“Of course, dear brother,” Chris answered with a smile. 

“Will you...confirm that he will be at our ball in two days? Oh, and I’ll...I’ll write a letter for you to take to him!” Viktor exclaimed, ideas flowing to him even in his drunken state. 

“You...genuinely  _ care _ about that piggy?” Yuri questioned. Viktor couldn’t tell if he sounded disgusted, concerned, or confused. 

“Quite possibly,” Viktor responded, his voice reduced to merely a whisper.

“Quite  _ probably _ , by the sound of it,” Christophe added with a chuckle. 

Viktor rolled his eyes. 

“Come on, Yurio, let’s get you home,” he sighed, changing the subject for the time.

“Let’s get me a fucking  _ doctor _ , because my fucking  _ arm _ is still bleeding thanks to that  _ shithead _ ,” Yuri snapped, stumbling towards the road as a troika approached. 

“You’ll live,” Chris laughed. “Don’t worry.”

“Be happy, Yuratchka,” Viktor continued, helping Yuri into the troika. “We live to love another day.”

Chris closed the troika door behind him when he entered, safely securing the trio from any outside wind and frost. Viktor looked out the window at the dark world outside.  _ Yuuri Katsuki _ , he thought,  _ is this what love really feels like? Or am I just...dreaming? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, yo, that was fun, good job Yuri. YES, I changed things. Please stop being all like "oh you changed that you changed this" yes obviously I changed things it's a hecking AU. Anyways, thank you for reading! Also, after the next chapter, updates will be a bit slower, seeing as I start school again next week. I really don't want to abandon this fic, and I probably won't. Chapters will just end up being a bit more spaced out starting next week, I'm sorry. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!


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